


Who Wouldn't Want That?

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, demian and barnes, holiday snippet, season 5, wincestmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9241457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: Season five based Christmas snippet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Wincestmas 2015 on tumblr as a gift for random-fireworks.

It’s been about two weeks since they attended their first supernatural convention, and ran into Demian and Barnes. Sam finds it endearing that Dean manages to find small ways to bring them up every now and then, when he thinks he’s being subtle. 

Demian’s words still rattled in Dean’s head, and Sam’s too, the more he thought about it. “But to be Sam and Dean, to wake up every morning and save the world. To have a brother who would die for you. Well who wouldn't want that?”

It wasn’t the hunt itself that had affected them both so much, it was the partners playing Sam and Dean. Cosplaying. Putting who they were everyday aside to enjoy what they felt was an incredible life – even after they’d had a glimpse of the real life the hunters led.

Sam couldn’t help but think they were right about it though. The life he and Dean led was pretty incredible. Who else but those who lived it, or those they’d helped, would believe it? Their lives had everything a really good story contained: action, adventure, sci-fi, romance, mystery, humor, heroes – it covered all the genres. No wonder the Supernatural books were gaining popularity, that there was a calling for that kind of material for people to read. 

Sam was brought out of his reverie by the delicious smell of fresh coffee being waved under his nose. Dean had a bag of fresh pastries in one hand, a tray of coffee in the other and they were stopped somewhere off the beaten path near Madison, WI. 

It was cold enough to snow, though they hadn’t seen any yet, unusual for this late in December. The forecast wasn’t calling for snow, but Sam felt he could smell it in the air. It was a brisk and cloudless day, bright and full of sunshine. They ate and drank in silence, letting their knees knock together, shoulders brushing as they sat side by side on the hood of the Impala. 

“Think they’re doing ok?” Dean asked the question so quietly, Sam almost missed it.

“I’m sure they are. They seemed like two guys who had it together.” Sam finished his coffee and pitched his cup into the now empty pastry bag.

“Yeah. Yeah, they did. I mean, from what they learned – what they know now. They can’t come back from that.” Dean let his half-finished pastry fall to the ground before looking over at Sam.

Sam caught the look in Dean’s eye. The undercurrent with them was always there, they had a language of their own and he could read the unspoken question.

“No, they can’t come back. But they can move forward, always keep moving forward.” He took Dean’s hand in his and held it lightly. They stayed that way for several minutes, just looking out over the fields around them. When the chill began to nip at them both, they silently got back into the Impala, driver and shotgun and the open road ahead.

“Motel now or later?” Dean started her up, popping in a Led Zeppelin cassette. 

“Later, let’s watch the sunset on the road.” 

They’d driven for about an hour when the sun started to go down. Dean was twitchy, his hands tapping out the rhythm on the steering well. 

“Sammy?”

Sam stirred, having been not exactly asleep but resting. He pulled himself up, yawned and rubbed his eyes, letting them adjust to the growing darkness. “Yeah?”

“Think we’re doing ok?” Dean bit his lip, staring ahead. “I mean, you know.”

“Yeah Dean, I know. I think we keep doing what we’re doing. Just one day at a time, like always.” Sam could see the concern and fear in Dean’s eyes, and moved across the seat to lean into him, resting his head against his shoulder, letting their thighs touch from hip to knee. 

Dean wrapped his arm around Sam’s broad back, letting his fingers gently play with the soft chestnut locks at the nape of his neck. He instantly felt more settled, calmer, having Sam there in his immediate space. As long as he had that, he knew he was just fine. And he knew he’d do anything to keep it.


End file.
